There's No Place Like Home
by Jossfan
Summary: COMPLETED! A woman with close ties to Sheriff Lucas Buck arrives in Trinity with her own agenda -- and a secret unknown to even Lucas. This story takes place a few months after the events in the season finale
1. The Letter

Thanks to my beta readers Renee', Queribus and Graham for their encouragement and feedback.  
  
Disclaimers: American Gothic and its characters are the property of CBS, MCA/Universal, Renaissance Pictures, and possibly others. Any characters or storyline added to support this concept is strictly the product of my crazed mind. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only; so please don't sue. Please do not distribute, repost or archive this story without receiving permission from the author.  
  
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As rain streamed down the window outside her apartment, the young woman brushed away the tear sliding down her cheek. She turned from the window and looked down at the paper clutched in her hand. It was still there. Words from her mother -- a mother she'd lost so long ago.  
The letter had arrived in the morning mail, along with a birthday card from her cousin down south. She laid the letter on the table next to the fish tank and smoothed the worn paper, her fingers sliding over her mother's faded handwriting. Her eyes wandered to the attorney's note which had accompanied the letter.  
  
"Ms. Veronica Lyn Huntley:  
  
Per instructions detailed by Mrs. Sarah Huntley, we are forwarding this envelope to you on the occasion of your 30th birthday..."  
  
Lies and secrets. Ronilyn crushed the attorney's note in her hand and the parakeet sitting on her shoulder flew off to perch on a lamp shade. Too many things she hadn't been told. How many more were there? she thought, tearing the note into strips. Why now?  
She strode into her bedroom and dropped the shredded note into the hamsters' cage. Ronilyn grabbed the telephone directory. If there were answers to any of these questions, they wouldn't be found here. It was time to return home. She'd been having strange dreams recently, vague images and unfamiliar voices haunted her when she slept. Ronilyn always awoke with a sense of unease from these dreams, although she could never recall their exact content. Pushing her auburn hair behind her ear, she dialed the phone number of a travel agency in downtown Chicago.  
"Hello?" Ronilyn grabbed a pen and notepad from her nightstand. "I need some flight information...for Trinity, South Carolina." 


	2. A Phone Call

"Whatcha readin' there, Ben?"  
Deputy Ben Healy dropped his newspaper, knocking his coffee cup over in the process. "Damnit, Lucas, " he said, jumping out of his chair before the hot liquid spilled on him. "Do you have to keep sneakin' up on people?"  
A broad grin spread across Lucas Buck's face. "Sure do, Benji, boy. The day I can't sneak up on you is the day you'll be ready to wear this." He tapped his finger on the sheriff's star pinned to his vest.  
"That day can't come soon enough to suit me," Ben muttered, sopping up the coffee with his newspaper.  
Lucas's grin vanished. "What was that, Ben?" he asked, leaning toward the deputy.  
"Nothin', Lucas. Not a damn thing." Ben started to wring out the newspaper, then shrugged and tossed it into the wastebasket next to his desk.  
"Nothin', huh? You're not gettin' delusions of grandeur, are you?"  
"Delusions of what?" Ben looked at Lucas for a long moment, then sighed. "Did you want something, Lucas?"  
"When I want something, you'll know it, Ben," Lucas replied. "So what in our fine newspaper had you so captivated that you're ignorin' the citizens of Trinity?"  
"Ignore who?" Ben threw his arms wide as if to embrace the empty waiting area in the sheriff's station. "Unless you're seein' ghosts, Lucas, there ain't anyone here."  
Lucas grinned and the telephone rang. "Gonna get that, Ben? Could be one of our citizens callin'."  
"Floyd! Hey, Floyd!" Ben shouted. "Answer the phone!" Ben picked up his coffee cup and walked over to the coffee machine at the far table, waiting until his back was toward Lucas before allowing a smirk to appear on his face.  
A bell tinkled as the door to the station swung open. "You lookin' for me, Sheriff?"  
At those ominous words, Ben glanced up. Jerry Davis, an account manager at the Trinity Bank, shuffled up to the counter.  
"Sure am, Jerry." The sheriff beckoned the gray haired man to enter. "We've got some things to talk about, Jer, my friend," Lucas said, clapping him on the back.  
Ben involuntarily shivered as he watched Lucas lead the older man into his office and shut the door. Jerry had been working at the bank when Ben opened his first savings account as a boy. He was a bland, ordinary man, in Ben's opinion, undeserving of Lucas's attention. The deputy kept his eye on Lucas's door, the ring of the telephone echoing in the background. He wondered what Jerry Davis could possibly have done to be summoned by the sheriff.  
"Ben? Ben, somebody's in the Huntley house."  
Ben shook his head and frowned at Floyd. "What's that you said?"  
"The Huntley house, Ben," Floyd repeated, hanging up the phone at his desk. "Old Mrs. Broomley just called and said a car was parked 'round back and there was a light on the second floor."  
Ben swore and set down his coffee cup. Great. Of all the houses for some kids to pick to have a party. Lucas would not be happy, and an unhappy Lucas generally meant a miserable Ben. He adjusted his gun belt and grabbed the car keys from his desk.  
"Should I tell the sheriff?" Floyd asked.  
"Lord, no." Ben said, jamming his hat on his head. "I'll handle it, Floyd." He strode across the floor of the station, the bell tinkling as he opened the door and disappeared out of sight. 


	3. A Candidate Chosen

.  
  
"Run for City Council?" Jerry Davis blinked his eyes. "I don't understand, Sheriff."  
"Now, Jerry, it's not a matter of runnin'. More like a nice, easy stroll," Lucas said. "You heard about that terrible misfortune that happened to Councilman Stiles, didn't you? The car accident?"  
The man pursed his lips distastefully. "Heard he'd been drinkin'."  
Lucas tilted his desk chair back. "Well, that's a matter of public record by now, I expect. Drinkin' and drivin' will take a man straight down the devil's road, Jerry. All sorts of terrible things can happen there." Lucas grinned as he recalled an instance involving a certain physician by the name of Crower. "Anyway," he said, bringing his chair gently back to the floor, "with Mr. Stiles's tragic demise, there's now a vacancy on the City Council. The mayor will be appointin' someone to take his place and fill out the rest of his term. I'm goin' to suggest the mayor appoint you." Lucas jabbed a finger in the banker's direction.  
Jerry shifted in his chair. "Well, I 'preciate that, Lucas, but I really don't have an interest in politics. Besides, I'm still workin' at the bank." He laughed. "Where would I find the time?"  
"Where does anyone find the time?" Lucas folded his hands on the desk. "Most everyone on the council is just plain folks like you, Jerry. This ain't a big city with fancy politicians wearing thousand dollar suits. I've seen everyone from teachers to barbers hold a seat there at one time or another."  
"Well, Lucas, I was expectin' to take it easy this next year," the man said, picking imaginary lint off his shirt sleeve while avoiding the sheriff's eyes. "You know I retire in a year..."  
Lucas Buck stood and walked around to the front of desk. "That's right, Jerry. You get a pension, don't you?" He perched on the edge of the desk as the man nodded. "Be mighty hard to collect that pension if you're in jail for embezzlin' money, now wouldn't it?"  
"Whaaaat...what are you talkin' about?" Jerry paled and rose from the chair. "I never did such a..."  
"Sit back down, Jer," the sheriff said. "Wouldn't want you to have a heart attack." When the older man obeyed, Lucas smiled. "A number changed here and there would make even the most honest man look bad. And a couple of huge deposits in your own personal account, well, that'd look mighty suspicious." Lucas's smile widened. "I don't think you want to be spendin' your golden years in a jail cell with a roommate who's lookin' for love in all the wrong places."  
"But..."  
"Now, Jerry, cheer up. It ain't like I'm askin' you to sell your soul." He laughed. "It'll just be for fourteen months. When it's over, you'll be out of politics and be able to take your pension and do whatever you like."  
Jerry stared wide-eyed at the sheriff. He opened and closed his mouth and finally said, "What'll I have to do?"  
"Good man, Jer." Lucas stood up and clapped the man on his shoulder as he walked past. "It's simple, really. You go to the meetings and if I tell you to vote a particular way on a piece of legislation, you do it. And," he leaned and whispered into the back of Jerry's head, "you don't do anything foolish, like accuse the sheriff's department of mismanagin' its money and tryin' to cut our budget."  
Lucas stood and opened his office door. "You do that and everything'll be just fine."  
The account manager nodded and mumbled as he walked out the door.  
Lucas followed the man out to the front of the station. "Now I expect to get an invite to your retirement party, Jer," he called as the man left. Jerry Davis stopped mid-stride, hunched his shoulders and continued out the door. The sheriff turned around and surveyed the station. "Floyd!"  
"Yessir, Sheriff." The deputy quickly rose from his chair, bumping his knee on an open desk drawer.  
"Where the hell's Ben?" 


	4. Knock Before Entering

.  
  
"I didn't mean to scare you like that, Ronilyn," Ben said, as he rubbed the back of his head.  
  
Ronilyn Huntley turned from the kitchen sink and handed the deputy a wet washcloth. "And I didn't mean to hit you with my purse, Ben." She shut off the faucet as he gingerly placed the cold compress on the bump he could feel forming on his head.  
  
"What the hell is in that thing?" Ben asked. He inclined his head in the direction of the offending purse, felt pain, and slowly straightened it.  
  
"Well, you know us women," Ronilyn said with a smile. "We pack all sorts of things. Just be glad that I didn't hit you with my makeup bag. They'd be peeling you off the kitchen floor." She brushed dust off one of the kitchen chairs and sat down. "Aren't you suppose to announce yourself before busting into someone's house?"  
  
"Believe me, I'd rather not bust into anyone's house," he said, wincing as he removed the washcloth and slapped it down on the table. "Neighbors thought you were a prowler or something. Maybe *you* ought to think about announcin' yourself."  
  
"Well, maybe I wanted to get settled in before I made a grand entrance."  
  
"Settled in? You gonna be stayin' long?"  
  
She shrugged. "Maybe. I've got some... family business to take care of. It may take awhile."  
  
"Lucas know you're here?"  
  
She eyed him. "I think maybe you should go see a doctor and get your head checked out," she said, rising to her feet. "I nailed you pretty good."  
  
"He doesn't know then."  
  
Ronilyn sighed. "No, Ben, he doesn't. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to him yet. I'd consider it a personal favor."  
  
Ben stood and held up a hand. "No, that's alright. I'd rather stay away from the whole 'you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours', if it's all the same to you," he said. "Some of those scratches can get mighty deep."  
  
She examined her fingernails. "Not with me, Ben," Ronilyn said and glanced up at him. "I've got a light touch."  
  
Ben paused and stared at her for a moment. She smiled innocently at him. Then he snatched his hat, saying, "Well, since everything's alright here, I'll just be headin' on back to the station."  
  
"Drop by anytime," Ronilyn said, still smiling.  
  
"Uh, yeah."  
  
"Just knock first."  
  
After Ben left, she glanced at her watch. It was mid-afternoon and she still had a lot to get done today, including unpacking. Everything had been left the way it was since the last time she'd stayed in the house. It had been filled with people then, offering food and condolences after the funeral service.  
  
Food. She would have to buy food. Her stomach growled in agreement. She missed breakfast due to the flight and those six complimentary peanuts on the airplane didn't do much in the way of satisfying her hunger. Her lunch had consisted of coffee at the car rental agency in Ascension. Yes, indeed, food was high up on her priority list.  
  
Ronilyn placed a hand on the refrigerator and nodded when she felt it vibrate. She'd made arrangements after the funeral to continue all utility services at the house, so everything would be in working order should she return. She blew dust off the stove and started choking on the cloud that formed. "I'll think I'll eat out tonight," she said between coughs while waving her hands frantically to clear the air.  
  
Ronilyn hauled the rest of her luggage upstairs into her old bedroom and made a mental note to also pick up some cleaning supplies at the store. She grabbed her purse and dashed out of the house, waving at the neighbor across the street sweeping her porch steps. There was one visit Ronilyn wanted to make before Lucas learned she was in town. She pointed the car toward Juniper House. 


	5. A Bittersweet Reunion

.  
  
"Mama?" Ronilyn used the familiar term she had called the other woman as a child.  
  
Sarah Huntley sat tall in her chair, her robe wrapped securely around her, eyes staring straight ahead.  
  
"Mama? It's Ronilyn. Veronica Lyn. Do you remember me?" Ronilyn tried again, this time touching Sarah's hand with her own.  
  
The woman slowly turned her head to look blankly at her.  
  
"I need to talk to you, Mama."  
  
"She's doing a little better now." A voice from the doorway drifted into the room. Ronilyn turned to find Dr. Mitchell walking toward them. "She still doesn't speak, but she does understand that someone is speaking to her. She's adapted to the daily routine of meals..."  
  
"Doctor," Ronilyn said, frowning. "I came to see her. If I wanted an update on her progress, I would have made an appointment with you to discuss it."  
  
"Well, I assumed while you were here..."  
  
"You assumed I would want to waste the precious time I have to spend with her by talking to you?"  
  
"With all due respect, Ms. Huntley," the Juniper House psychiatrist replied, "you haven't been to see your mother in a long time."  
  
Ronilyn slowly rose from the seat she had taken next to Sarah and approached the doctor. "I know exactly how long it's been," she said, biting off each word. "Two years. Two years since I've been back home. Two years since my father died. You have no idea what that's like. If you're implying I've been neglecting my mother..." She let the unspoken threat hang in the air.  
  
Dr. Mitchell took a few steps backward. "Uh, no." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Will you look at the time? I'm late for rounds." He moved toward the doorway. "You can have one of the nurses page me if there's anything you'd like to discuss."  
  
Ronilyn smiled and nodded. "I'll be sure to do that."  
  
The psychiatrist turned back just before stepping into the corridor. "Were you expecting the sheriff to meet you here today?"  
  
The smile vanished from Ronilyn's face. "Why? Is he here?" she asked, practically leaping across Sarah's room to peer into the hospital corridor. There was no sign of Lucas anywhere.  
  
"Well, he usually stops by to see your mother when he comes to Juniper House," Dr. Mitchell said, frowning at Ronilyn's actions.  
  
She looked at him. "He visits my mother?" When the doctor nodded, she took a deep breath and asked, "How often?" Maybe that was why Sarah hadn't yet recovered after all these years.  
  
Dr. Mitchell shrugged. "It depends. He's been coming by every so often to visit another patient and he usually checks on your mother while he's here."  
  
Ronilyn frowned. Banning Lucas from visiting Sarah would require explanations that she didn't care to give. And knowing Lucas, she had a feeling the ban would be next to impossible to enforce. The doctor fled from the room before she could ask him who else Lucas visited in Juniper House.  
  
She turned back to Sarah, still sitting by the window. The afternoon sun shone down on the older woman and for a moment Ronilyn thought she saw a spark of life in her eyes.  
  
"Mama?" She again sat down next to Sarah and held out the letter she'd received last week. "Do you remember this letter? You put it in an envelope and gave it to the lawyers after I was born." She placed the paper in Sarah's lap. "Do you remember?"  
  
Sarah looked down at the paper and one finger slowly began tracing the handwriting.  
  
"It was almost thirty years ago. I need to know more, Mama," Ronilyn said. "I need you to tell me about you... and Aunt Hester." 


	6. Gentle Persuasion

.  
  
"Where you been, Ben?"  
  
Ben stepped into the sheriff's station to find Lucas leaning back in the deputy's chair, feet propped up on his desk.  
  
"Had to take a call," Ben replied, carefully removing his hat and hanging it up on the coat rack near the door.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Lucas swung his legs off Ben's desk and leaned forward in the chair. "What kind of call? Some sort of disturbance? At the Huntley house, maybe?"  
  
Ben shot Floyd a "thanks a lot" look, but the other deputy was too busy concentrating on a phone call to notice. "Neighbor thought she saw a prowler," Ben told Lucas and shrugged. "Didn't see any reason to bother you with it."  
  
"Well, maybe you should've looked a little harder." Lucas stood. "I believe I've said more than once that anything goes on at that house, I want to know about it. That didn't happen now, did it?"  
  
"Floyd told you," Ben said, gesturing at the other deputy.  
  
"You know that's not what I mean." Lucas looked closely at Ben and the odd way in which he was holding his head up. "Ronilyn back home? You have a run-in with her?"  
  
"Sheriff?"  
  
"What?" Lucas snapped at Floyd.  
  
Floyd covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "It's the mayor. Says he can't make your meetin' tonight."  
  
Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Oh, he can't, can he? Put it through to my office, Floyd." He started to turn, then stopped and pointed at Ben. "Don't go runnin' out on any more calls. I'm not through with you."  
  
Ben walked around the counter to his desk and sighed.  
  
Lucas shut his office door and picked up the telephone. "Howdy, Mayor, what's the good word? Understand you have some sort of schedulin' snafu."  
  
"Yeah, uh, something's come up, Lucas," Mayor Quimby said. "I'm afraid we're gonna have to cancel our meetin' tonight."  
  
Lucas sighed. "You've been puttin' me off way too much, Yer Honor. A person's liable to take offense at that."  
  
"I don't mean any offense, Lucas," the mayor assured him. "I...I just can't tonight."  
  
"Well, Mayor, I can't either." Lucas twirled the phone cord with his fingers. "Can't support you for re-election, that is."  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.  
  
"I don't feel it'd be right to support a man who uses the word "can't" in his vocabulary. I've got a duty to the citizens of Trinity and I just don't think that kind of man should be their leader. If I'd known how weak you were..."  
  
"Look here, Lucas, you've got no call to talk to me like that."  
  
"No call?" Lucas leaned forward. "Oh, really? Who came to me three years ago with that sob story 'bout bein' down in the polls and needin' help in gettin' re-elected? I didn't cancel meetin' after meetin' with you, did I?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Well?" Lucas demanded.  
  
"No."  
  
"Darn right. Now I expect the same courtesy in return. I suggest you rearrange your schedule and find time for our meetin'," Lucas said, "'cause it's gonna take place tonight - one way or the other." With that, he hung up the phone. 


	7. Visiting Juniper House

.  
  
Sarah Huntley's head jerked up at the mention of her sister's name, Hester. She stared at Ronilyn, her eyes filled with terror. Pushing the letter off her lap, she began shaking her head and rocking back and forth.  
  
Ronilyn threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tightly and whispering words of comfort. As Sarah's frenzied rocking continued, Ronilyn closed her eyes and wished for the woman to calm down. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, Sarah quieted. Ronilyn released her mother and knelt back as Sarah resumed her gaze out the window, her hands resting in her lap.  
  
"Well, I'll be..." Ronilyn stood up and dusted off her jeans. "Hmm. I wonder..." She picked up the letter, leaned over and kissed Sarah on the cheek. "I'll be back soon, Mama. You will get better," she added.  
  
Ronilyn left her mother's room and approached the nearest nurses' station. Ignoring the rumbling protests of her stomach, she inquired as to which patient Sheriff Buck had been visiting.  
  
"Besides your mother, ma'am? Why, that'd be Doc Crower." The young nurse glanced around, then leaned over the counter. "He tried to kill the sheriff awhile back," she whispered.  
  
Ronilyn raised her eyebrows. "Did he really?"  
  
"Sure did." The nurse nodded vigorously. "Tried to shoot him in his own office."  
  
"And the sheriff comes to visit him?"  
  
The nodding continued. "Pretty regularly," the nurse said. "My uncle went to see Doc Crower back when he was normal, you know." She looked at Ronilyn to make sure she understood. "He had a broken hand and the doc fixed him up good. He wasn't the same after the plague though. You heard about that? Folks bleedin' for no reason?" Ronilyn nodded. That story had hit the news service wires several months ago. "Anyway, the doc had been quotin' the bible and talkin' strange that whole time." She shrugged. "Folks figure he just snapped, that's why he's here instead of in jail. 'Course, he claims he's not really crazy."  
  
"Oh?" If Ronilyn's eyebrows could have risen any further, they would have flown right off her face. Tried to kill Lucas and he's still alive? "Where is Dr. Crower's room?" Ronilyn asked, smiling at the girl.  
  
"Oh no, ma'am. I couldn't tell you that." The nurse backed away from the counter. "He's not allowed any visitors, except for family. Doctor's orders."  
  
"Well, where is his family then? Maybe I could talk to them."  
  
"Died in a car accident. He was drunk," the nurse added.  
  
Ronilyn's green eyes widened. "This happened here?"  
  
"Oh no," the nurse said. "Sometime before he came to Trinity."  
  
"Ah. Well, it sounds like the doctor could use a friend. Why don't you just give me the room number? I've been here often enough. I'm sure I can find it myself."  
  
The nurse shook her head. "Can't do it, ma'am. I'd get in trouble, sure."  
  
"No, you won't," Ronilyn told her. She leaned forward. "Give me the room number."  
  
Five minutes later, the elevator doors opened and Ronilyn stepped onto the fifth floor. She observed the empty nurses' station and called, "Hello?" When no one answered, she shrugged and walked carefully down the corridor, reading room numbers along the way.  
  
This must be where the more violent patients were kept, she thought, noting the small windows near the top of the doors and the heavy metal bolts which fastened them shut. The floor was unusually quiet compared to the one her mother was on and she wondered if the rooms were soundproofed. Either that or the patients were sedated. Ronilyn turned down another corridor and stopped outside one of the doors. She scowled at the flickering light in the hall above her and tapped on the door, whispering, "Dr. Crower?"  
  
Ronilyn could hear mumbling and rustling in the room. She peered through the bars in the tiny window, but the room was dark, the strobe effect of the hallway light flashing eerie patterns on the walls inside.  
  
She blinked her eyes several times and glared at the ceiling light. "Good God. That would be enough to drive me insane."  
  
She stood on her toes and pressed her face against the window bars. "Dr. Crower?"  
  
A face suddenly shot up directly in front of the window on the other side of the bars. Ronilyn shrieked and fell away from the door.  
  
She swore under her breath a second later. "Way to go," she muttered. "That was real cool. The man'll probably never go near the door again." Ronilyn shook her head and frowned at herself. "Okay, let's try again."  
  
She rose up on her toes again, this time bracing herself for any unexpected movement from inside the room. "Dr. Crower?"  
  
A hand grabbed her shoulder and roughly spun her around. "What the hell are you doin' here?" 


	8. No Visitors Allowed

**Reviewers:**

**Kath –** Thanks for the comments.  I really didn't think anyone was looking at the American Gothic section, so I was pleasantly surprised by your review.  More chapters are coming and feedback is always welcome.  Thanks again!

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      "Get your hands off me!"  Ronilyn shouted, as the man shoved her against the wall.

      "No visitors allowed," he said, squinting at the visitor's badge pinned to her shirt.  "No one's supposed to be up here."

      "Then what are you doing up here?"  Ronilyn demanded, her eyes searching for the man's identification badge on his white hospital uniform.

      "I'll ask the questions."  The orderly squeezed her arm and shook her.  "What are you doin' up here?  You better start talkin', missy."  

      "What's going on?"  asked a weak voice from inside Dr. Crower's room.

      Ronilyn glanced sideways at the door and the orderly smacked it with his free hand.  "Aw, shut up.  Get away from there."

      "Leave him alone," Ronilyn said, bringing her knee up into the orderly's groin as she wrenched herself free.  

      "Ow!"  The man lunged for her and she swung her purse, striking him in the shoulder.  

      As the man cried out again, Ronilyn turned and ran down the corridor.  Where in the hell was anybody on this floor?  She turned down the other corridor and sprinted for the elevator, her purse banging against her hip.  She glanced back and saw the orderly was still far behind her.  She just hoped the elevator doors would open fast since she didn't know where the fire exits were located on this floor.

      Ronilyn turned back and collided with a man getting off the elevator.  

      As she attempted to untangle herself from yet another man wearing white, Ronilyn glimpsed the person's face.  "Oh, hello, Dr. Mitchell.  How are you?"

      "Uh, fine," the doctor said, brushing off the sleeves of his lab coat and patting his pockets.  "No harm done.  What's going on?  Why are you here?  No visitors are allowed on this floor."

      "So I hear."

      "What are you doing up here?"  he repeated.

      "I got lost."

      The doctor studied her as he stood up.  "You've been to Juniper House enough times over the years to know where you're going."

      "I was confused."

      The orderly reached them.  "Doc Mitchell, you know this woman?  She was tryin' to talk to one of the patients, Crower.  She ran away when I tried to stop her."

      "Hey," Ronilyn protested, as the orderly hauled her to her feet.

      "Ms. Huntley, there are extremely unstable patients on this floor, all having exhibited violent outbursts."

      "Yeah?  Well, I'll be exhibiting a violent outburst like you've never seen if this jerk doesn't get his hands off me - now!"

      "Let her go," Dr. Mitchell ordered the other man.

      "That's better," Ronilyn said, straightening her clothes and smoothing back her auburn hair.  "I think you're locking up the wrong people."

      "You're going to have to leave," the doctor said.  "It's dangerous for you to be on this floor, especially by yourself."

      "You're telling me," Ronilyn said, glancing deliberately in the orderly's direction. "Doctor, if I find out that my mother is being treated like these patients, you'll know what dangerous really is."  She looked again at the orderly, who continued to glare at her.  "Ah, hell, *you* can find out right now."  Ronilyn stomped on his foot and swung her purse up into his face.

      The man cried out as he hopped up and down, clutching at his nose with both hands.  He stumbled against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor.  The orderly took his bloodstained hands away from his face.  "I think she broke it," he moaned, scowling at her.

      "Well, maybe you shouldn't go 'round mistreatin' women like that."  Lucas Buck leaned against the counter of the empty nurses' station, an amused look on his face.  "Knowin' Ronilyn like I do, I'd say you got off pretty easy."


	9. A Rock

**Reviewers:**

**Kath – **I hated that the show got cancelled too.  It hooked me from the first episode and that doesn't happen often.  There were so many areas that could've been explored,but I guess that's why we have fan fiction.  Thanks again for your nice words.

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      "Sheriff."  Dr. Mitchell swung around in Lucas's direction.  "I didn't see you there."

      Ronilyn frowned, wondering how he got past them without being seen.  It must have been in all the confusion, she decided.  Or else Lucas knew where the fire exits were located.  

      "You alright, Ronilyn?"  Lucas asked her, pushing away from the counter.  "You want to press charges?"

      "No," she replied with a shrug.  "I'm fine."

      Lucas nodded.  "Well, then, Doc, why don't you take care of that fella before he bleeds all over your nice clean floors.  Wouldn't be very sanitary, would it?" he said, strolling over to the group.  

      "Ronilyn and I will get out of your way and we'll forget this ugly little incident ever happened, hmm?"  He rested a hand on Ronilyn's shoulder and she quickly shook it off.  Lucas looked down at her, puzzled. 

      "Well, Sheriff, I..."

      "But she broke my nose!"  the orderly wailed, still sitting on the floor.

      A few quick paces and Lucas was standing over the man.  "You're lucky that's all that got broken.  I don't take kindly to people treatin' my cousin in that manner."

      "Make sure *you* remember that in the future," Ronilyn muttered under her breath.

      Lucas glanced at her with a frown.  "Boy," he turned back to the man, "if you know what's good for you, you'll let it go.  I'm only lookin' out for your best interests.  After all, you wouldn't want to wind up locked in one of these rooms, would you?" he added in a whisper.

      The orderly's eyes widened and he shook his head.

      "Didn't think so."  Lucas straightened and walked back over to Ronilyn.  

      She grabbed Dr. Mitchell's sleeve as he started toward the orderly.  "Just a minute, doctor.  What's the idea of locking up a man and only allowing his family to visit him when you know he has no family?  How's that supposed to help him get better?"

      The doctor shot a glance at Lucas, then removed Ronilyn's hand from his coat and walked over to the orderly.

      "And what about that damn flashing light outside his room?"  she demanded, raising her voice.  "All these doctors here and not one of you knows how to change a lousy light bulb?  Or is that supposed to be some twisted psychological treatment, like Chinese water torture?"

      Lucas smiled and nodded a greeting to two nurses who approached the group from one of the corridors.  "Let's go, Ronilyn,"  he said, steering the protesting woman onto the elevator.  The doors closed and Lucas turned to her before she could say a word.  "Were you plannin' on tellin' me you were in Trinity anytime soon?"

      "Why?  You used to say that nothing goes on in town that you don't know about, so I didn't think it was necessary. You're here, so apparently it wasn't."

      "Uh huh."  Lucas studied her for a moment.  "So how come my little baby cousin tries sneakin' into town goin' places where she shouldn't be goin'?"

      "First of all, I'm hardly a baby.  Second," Ronilyn counted off the points on her fingers, "I didn't sneak into town.  I drove straight down Main Street in the middle of the day.  Third, I have every right to be at Juniper House.  My mother's here!"

      "Her room's not on the fifth floor."

      "Yeah?  Well, I'll go wherever the hell I damn well please."

      Lucas cocked an eyebrow.  "Is that right?"

      "Yeah, that's right.  And by the way," Ronilyn said, "I didn't need your help back there.  I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

      Lucas threw his head back and laughed.  "So I noticed.  What the hell you have in that purse anyway?"

      "Just a trick I picked up from someone while taking a self defense class."  Ronilyn opened the purse and removed a large rock.  "Weighs about two pounds.  Anything heavier and I start walking lopsided."

      Lucas laughed again, then snatched the rock out of her hands.  

      "Hey, what's the idea?"

      "I'll take that, darlin'.  Seems to me you used it to assault one of my deputies earlier today."

      Ronilyn narrowed her eyes.  "Yeah, I'm sure that's what he said.  Go ahead.  Take it.  What do you think?  I'm not going to be able to find another rock in all of Trinity?"

      "I'd be careful if I were you," Lucas said.  "You pick up a rock, you never know what nasty critters'll crawl out from under."

      The elevator doors opened onto the first floor and they got out.  "Well...see you around, Lucas," she said with a wave of her hand as she headed across the lobby.

      He reached out and grabbed her arm.  "Now hold on there a second.  Just where are you off to?"

      Ronilyn glanced down at his hand on her arm, then slowly looked up into his face.   "Lucas, I've about had it with being manhandled today," she said very quietly.  "I'm sure a lot of women would like to be grabbed by you, but I'm not one of them.  Now...let...go."

      The smile that had started to appear on Lucas's face stopped and an odd expression flickered across it.  Frowning, his hand dropped from Ronilyn's arm.

      "Thank you," she said.  "Now I'm going to get something to eat, go home, and try to finish unpacking.  Is that okay with you?"

      "Whoa, darlin'," Lucas said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.  "Don't get all upset now.  I didn't mean anything by it.  I just haven't seen you in such a long while, I was thinkin' I'd invite you to dinner, but seein' as you didn't see fit to inform me of your arrival, I've already made plans."

      Ronilyn crossed her arms.  "I'm crushed."

      "Yeah, well, I got an important meetin' with the mayor and I'm afraid that's got to take top priority here."  He snapped his fingers.  "Hey, I've got an idea.  Why don't you get your bags and stay at my house?"

      Gargoyle Manor?  Ronilyn thought.  "Uh, no thanks," she replied.  "I've already got everything at *my* house.  Would be kind of silly of me to have kept the house if I'm not going to use it."

      "You'll be all by yourself over there."

      "I've been all by myself in Chicago for the past twelve years and you never seemed concerned about that."  Ronilyn pointed out, while backing towards the information desk.  "I appreciate the offer, Lucas, but I'll be fine."

      "Suit yourself," Lucas said, shrugging. "You haven't spent a night alone in that house since your father died.  Hope you don't see any ghosts."

      "Don't hope too hard."  Ronilyn returned the visitor's badge to the desk clerk.

      Lucas opened his mouth to respond, but his attention was distracted by movement in a corner of the lobby.  "Boy, what are you doin' here?"  


	10. Too Many Questions

      Lucas addressed the large potted plant in the Juniper House lobby.  "I asked you a question, boy.  Get out from behind there."

      Ronilyn watched as a young boy, whom she judged to be about ten or eleven years old, slowly emerged from behind the plant.  He scowled up at Lucas, crossing his arms over his striped shirt in a gesture of defiance.  "What?"

      "What do you mean, what?"  Lucas demanded.  "What are you doin' out here by yourself?"

      "Miss Holt don't know I'm here."

      "Well, that figures.  And they make her your guardian instead of me," the sheriff said, shaking his head.  "Let's go, Caleb."

      Caleb scowled even more and shook his head.  "No.  I came here to see Dr. Matt and I ain't gonna leave 'til I do."

      Lucas raised his eyebrows.  "You're gonna do as I say, boy.  Now move."

      "Who's Dr. Matt?"  Ronilyn asked as she studied Caleb.  The boy's face seemed familiar, yet she knew she had never seen him before.

      Lucas frowned at her.  "You mean you were tryin' to see a man and you didn't even know his first name?  Just why were you goin' to see him then?"

      "You mean Dr. Crower?  That's your Dr. Matt?"  

      The scowl left Caleb's face as he looked up at her.  "You mean you seen him?  Is he alright?"

      "Uh, I haven't exactly seen him," Ronilyn said, discounting the earlier fleeting glimpse of a pale face through bars.  "I guess he's alright," she continued, remembering that Dr. Crower must have been aware of his surroundings enough to realize that there was a disturbance outside his door.  "I tried to see him, but it's family only."

      "That's what they keep tellin' me."  Caleb glared at the information desk.  "I keep comin' back hopin' somebody'll listen.  I told 'em Dr. Matt don't have any family 'cept me, but..."

      "You ain't his family, boy," Lucas interrupted.  "You're mine."

      "What?"  Ronilyn's eyebrows disappeared up into her hairline.  She crossed her arms.  "Someone want to tell me what's going on?  How is this boy related to me?"

      "Who're you?"  Caleb asked her.

      "I'm Ronilyn Huntley," she said, extending her hand towards him.  "I'm Lucas's cousin.  His mom and my mom were sisters."

      "Caleb Temple."  The boy shook her hand.  "So what does that make you towards me?"

      "I don't know," Ronilyn said, glancing back at her cousin.  "Lucas?"

      "He's my son."

      "Really."  She looked from Lucas to Caleb and back again.  "How come I didn't know anything about this until now?  And how come his last name isn't Buck?"  she asked.  "Who's his mother?  Do I know her?"

      "You ask too many questions, Ronilyn," Lucas told her.

      "Well, some questions just leap out and smack you right in the face, Lucas."  She moved closer to him.   "So how about an answer?"

      "It's complicated."  Lucas said, tight-lipped.

      "It would be with you, wouldn't it?  Then you can explain it to me at dinner tomorrow night.  Your house.  About six?"  Ronilyn patted his vest and grinned.  "Don't make any plans now."  She glanced over at the boy.  "I'll see you around, Caleb."

      "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

      "No ma'am, please.  It's Ronilyn," she told him.  "After all, we're family."

      "Yes, ma...Ronilyn.  You gonna be in town long?"  Caleb asked.

      Ronilyn looked at Lucas, who also seemed interested in hearing the answer.  She smiled.  "As long as it takes, Caleb.  As long as it takes."


	11. Looking for the Truth

**Reviewers:**

**Kath** – Ah, Kath, my faithful reader, so glad you're still enjoying the story.  Yep, they're cousins.  I wanted a female character who could not only stand up to Lucas, but who also wouldn't be swayed by his seductive charms.  Who better than a relative who grew up around him?  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

      Ronilyn clawed at the blankets, fighting the images that forced themselves upon her.  A sheriff's star spinning.  A wide-eyed boy in a striped shirt.  Lucas's voice:  "I'm just lookin' out for your best interests, darlin'."  Her mother screaming, then staring out the hospital window, silent and distant.  A man wearing black, holding a bible.  A woman falling down a flight of stairs.  The headstone of a grave that was too far away for her to read.  A large black crow cawing and swooping down from the sky.

      She sat straight up in the bed, heart pounding.  Sunlight peeked around the shades hanging in the window and Ronilyn peered at her watch on the nightstand.  Eight o'clock.  She fell back onto the bed with a thud.  The dream was longer and more vivid since she returned to Trinity, and somehow she doubted it was from the two chili dogs she ate last night.  

      With a sigh, Ronilyn untangled herself from the blankets and padded over to the window.  She lifted the window shade and saw Mrs. Broomley sweeping off her porch across the street.  She had spoken briefly with the woman upon coming home last night.  Close to seventy, Mrs. Broomley had lived in Trinity in that very house her entire life.  She'd preceded the women's movement, having been the first woman on the City Council while balancing life as a mother and wife before such things were fashionable.  When her children left home, she found replacements in the students she taught at Trinity Elementary School.  

      Through it all, that porch stayed spotless.  Ronilyn remembered Mrs. Broomley sweeping the afternoon she left for college in Illinois and the morning she returned to Trinity to watch her father die.  She was only a toddler when her mother was taken away, but she was certain Mrs. Broomley had been sweeping her steps that day too.  

      Sweep, sweep, sweep.  Sweep away the troubles.  Ronilyn sighed again, wishing it was that easy.  She looked over toward the tree she used to climb as a child.  A large black crow perched on one of the long branches extended toward the house.  It tilted its head and cackled, as it appraised her with one eye.  

      Ronilyn stumbled away from the window and let the shade fall back into place.  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  

      "Calm down," she said aloud.

      She showered, dressed and ate breakfast before leaving the house.  After a quick glance up at the tree for the crow, Ronilyn scattered bread crumbs near the trunk.  Several birds swooped down for the feast.  Ronilyn waved at Mrs. Broomley, who was now seated in her porch swing, gently swaying.  She had barely walked to the end of the block when a police car pulled up alongside.

      "Need a ride?"

      Ronilyn lowered her sunglasses and squinted.  "Ben?  Ben, what are you doing here?"

      "Lucas wanted me to swing by the house on the way in this mornin' and make sure everything was okay."

      "You're kidding."

      "Nope.  So do you want a ride, or not?"

      Ronilyn pushed her sunglasses back up. "Well, hell, why not," she said, getting into the car.  "I was going to walk over to the library, but you can drop me off there if it's not too much trouble."

      "No problem.  It's on the way."

      Ronilyn settled into the seat.  "Ben, how come no one called me when Lucas died a couple of months ago?"

      "Huh?"  Ben looked at her, then back at the road.

      "Don't you think I should've been notified before you guys stuck him into the ground?  I am his cousin, after all.  Lucas doesn't exactly have a lot of relatives."

      Ben gave her a sideways glance.  "Well, notifyin' folks wasn't my job.  I think..."

      "Or were you all just so eager to bury him, you decided to skip the formalities and get right down to the funeral?"

      "Ronilyn!  That's a terrible thing to say."  The car swerved slightly out of the traffic lane.  "I'll have you know we had a real fine funeral for him," Ben said.  "Besides, he wasn't really dead."

      "Oh, so I guess checking for a pulse and a heartbeat was one of those formalities to be skipped?"

      The tires squealed as Ben made a rather sharp turn.  "It wasn't like that at all," he protested, as Ronilyn braced herself against the dashboard with one arm.  "He'd been given this drug that made it look like he was dead and..."

      "Alright.  Never mind," she said, deciding to change the subject before Ben's driving sent *her* to an early grave.  "Forget about the Resurrection Man.  I've been hearing a lot of talk about who the mayor's going to appoint to the City Council.  What do you think?"  Ronilyn asked.

      "What do you mean?"  Ben shot her another glance.

      "Hey, people were talking about all sorts of things in the grocery store last night," Ronilyn said.  "You ever want to catch up on the latest gossip in town just hang out in the produce aisle.  Anyway, from what I understand, this Councilman Stiles chaired the Finance Committee, so he had a lot of clout.  It's too bad he had that accident."

      "Yeah.  Too bad."  Ben remained focused on the road in front of him.

      Ronilyn watched him thoughtfully.  "I heard the mayor's supposed to appoint someone in the next few days to take his place on the council.  Who do you suppose it'll be?"

      Ben shrugged.  

      "I'm sure Lucas has some ideas on that," she said.

      "Lucas always has ideas," he mumbled.

      "Ben, did this Councilman Stiles do something to make Lucas mad?"

      The deputy pulled up abruptly in front of the library and Ronilyn's head slammed back against the car seat.  

      "I'll take that as a 'yes'," she said, rubbing the back of her head.  "Is this payback for me whacking you with my purse yesterday?"

      Ben switched off the ignition and swiveled around in his seat to look at her.  "Ronilyn, why are you askin' so many questions?  Are you tryin' to get me in trouble?"

      "No, of course not,"  she said, touching his arm lightly.  "I'm just looking for the truth."

      "Truth?  In this town?"  He gave a short, bitter laugh.  "Good luck findin' it."

      "What did Stiles do?"

      Ben sat back in his seat.  

      "Come on, Ben."  She leaned forward.  "I've been away for a long time, not counting visits home for holidays and birthdays... and my dad's funeral.  I remember how Lucas was when I was a kid.  I need to know what he's capable of now."

      "You don't want to know," Ben said, folding his arms across his chest.  She waited.  He gave a long sigh.  "Stiles...he was gonna cut our budget way down.  Said there was too much money goin' to the sheriff's department and nothin' to show for it.  Practically accused Lucas of pocketin' the money."

      She gave a low whistle.  "And, of course, Lucas didn't like that."

      "Hell, *I* didn't like it," Ben said, looking over at her.  "We would've had to let some people go.  Cut back on equipment.  We needed that money.  That doesn't mean anyone did anything about it.  The man's alcohol level was way over the limit.  Stiles crashed his own car."

      Ronilyn raised her eyebrows.  "Who are you trying to convince, Ben?  Me or yourself?"


	12. Gone But Not Forgotten

      Ronilyn spent the next few hours in the Trinity Library, studying old newspaper accounts of her aunt's death and her mother's subsequent institutionalization less than a year later.  Sarah Huntley's committal to Juniper House had been newsworthy because of her connection to the Bucks.  The Bucks were a well-known family in Trinity and Hester Buck's heart attack in her mid-thirties had been news.  The coroner had certified the cause of death as heart failure and noted the woman's adult life had been plagued with various illnesses.  

      Ronilyn capped the microfilm container and handed all the material back to the librarian.  Nothing she didn't already know, although she had stared for a long time at the photo of a teenaged Lucas taken at his mother's funeral.  Didn't look like he aged too much in almost thirty years. Strange, Ronilyn thought, but if anyone could find the fountain of youth, it would be Lucas.  

      She used the pay phone outside the library to contact the law firm in Ascension that sent her the letter from her mother.  The attorney who handled the matter was unable to meet with Ronilyn that day, but after much persuasion, his secretary agreed to squeeze Ronilyn in for a few minutes tomorrow morning.

      Ronilyn stopped in a florist shop on the way home and purchased a large cactus for her father's grave.  She smiled as she handed the money over, knowing he would like it.  "They're hardly any trouble to care for.  Just water 'em every couple of months and they grow all on their own," he'd said in the past.

      After a quick lunch at the diner, she brought the cactus home, then drove to the cemetery.  Although she hadn't been to the grave since her father's death two years ago, Ronilyn was surprised to find the lawn well-tended and the headstone in excellent condition.  Lucas's doing, or just a responsible caretaker taking his job seriously?

      Ronilyn set the cactus down in front of the headstone and sat next to it.  Some sparrows alighted on the tablet and chirped at her, eliciting a weak smile.  She stared at the stone marker, recalling Lucas's comment about ghosts and wished her father would appear.  He wouldn't know the truth about what happened to her mother or Aunt Hester, but he would surely know the story behind the contents of the letter.  

      Ronilyn sat for what seemed like hours until a prickly sensation on the back of her neck made her look over her shoulder.  No one was there.  She stood and scanned the area, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching her.  Headstones dotted the grassy landscape, with an occasional person moving between them.  Frowning, Ronilyn slowly walked away, continuing to glance around her.

      A black Crown Victoria pulled to the side of the cemetery road.  The door slammed and boots crunched through the grass until a shadow loomed over Nathan Huntley's grave.

      "Well, Nathan," Lucas said, "looks like your little girl's come home for awhile.  The question is, what's she up to?"  He squatted beside the grave.  "You wouldn't happen to know the answer to that, would you?"

      Nathan Huntley's headstone stood, silent and erect.

      Lucas gave a short laugh.  "Didn't think so.  You know," he reached out a hand and touched the cactus, "she's become a might prickly lately.  Kind of like this cactus, all sharp like.  Didn't used to be like that."  Lucas pricked his finger on one of the cactus needles and a drop of blood fell to the ground.  "Still, blood is blood."  He rose and brushed off his pants.  "I guess I'll keep my word awhile longer."

      As Ronilyn wandered the cemetery, searching for her Aunt Hester's headstone, she came upon a woman and child standing in front of a new grave.  Tears streamed down the woman's face as she rested one hand on the polished headstone while the other gripped the child's shoulder.  

      "Where'd daddy go, Mama?"  the little girl asked.

      Ronilyn's throat tightened as she recalled her earliest childhood memory:  asking her father that same question about her mother.

      Sobbing aloud, the woman sunk to her knees in the fresh dirt and clutched the child to her.  Feeling tears coming to her own eyes and embarrassed at having intruded on their grief, Ronilyn bent her head down and walked on.  Then she stopped and glanced back, managing to glimpse the last name on the headstone.  Stiles.

      Ronilyn stalked away, cursing Lucas under her breath.  Somehow she just knew the councilman's accident wasn't truly an accident.  If the man was drunk, then Lucas probably drove him to it.  Now another little girl was going to grow up without a parent, just like she did.

      She ducked and glanced up when the shadow of a bird soared overhead. "If it's that damn crow again..." she muttered aloud.  She stopped, shocked at her vicious thoughts.  Why, she was the original Florence Nightingale of the animal world.  As a child, she often played in the woods and fields surrounding Trinity, forever bringing home all sorts of creatures.  Her father had suggested more than once that she should become a veterinarian.

      Ronilyn stared at the sky as a large blackbird flew past her.

      "Ronilyn!"

      She looked over to find Caleb waving at her from a short distance away.  He watched as she weaved a path around the graves until she reached him.  The boy stood before two graves, a bunch of daisies lay on the ground in front of one.

      "Hey, Ronilyn.  What're you doin' here?"

      "Visiting my dad."  She read the names on the two headstones.  "They your family?"

      The boy nodded.  "Yep.  That's my daddy and this here's my sister Merly."

      Ronilyn switched her gaze from the graves to Caleb.  "I thought Lucas was your daddy."

      "Well, I just found out about that awhile back.  Didn't believe it at first, but Merly said it was true so I guess it must be."

      Ronilyn opened her mouth to ask how he felt about learning that the man he'd thought was his father wasn't when she realized what Caleb had said.  "Merly?"  she repeated, looking at the date on the girl's headstone.  She'd been dead for over a year.  "Merly told you?  She talk to you recently?"

      "Not in a couple of months.  Not since -" Caleb hesitated a moment - "Gail went into the hospital." 

      "Gail?"

      Caleb shuffled his feet on the grass.  "My cousin.  She, uh, had an accident.  Her and the baby got hurt."

      Ronilyn's eyes widened as she recalled something from the past.  "She was pregnant?" she guessed.

      "Yes, ma'am."  Caleb stared at the ground.  

      "What happened, Caleb?  She didn't fall down a flight of stairs, did she?"

      Caleb's head snapped up and he frowned at her.  "How'd you know that?"  he demanded.  "You weren't there."

      Ronilyn bit back her reply of "And you were?" and instead said, "Wild guess."  Not wanting to make Caleb any more suspicious, she changed the subject.  "So tell me about Merlyn."

      Still regarding her with a wary look, he replied, "I miss her a lot.  I even miss takin' care of her.  I think she's gone for good now, but Miss Holt says she'll always be a part of me."

      "Miss Holt's right, Caleb.  No one's ever really gone.  As long as you remember them and the good times you had, they'll always be alive for you."

      "Well, that's the funny thing," Caleb said, as they walked away from the graves.  "Merly and me never really had any good times 'til after she was dead."


	13. Words Aren't Necessary

**Reviewers:**

**Kath –** Thanks again for your nice words.  I like spunky Ronilyn too.  Not much Merlyn or Gail in this story.  It's hard to get all the characters into a single story and you know Lucas – he likes to be front and center in any story.

**Surfer-Rosa –** So glad you like the story and that the characters sound right.  There's a few more chapters left before it ends.  Thanks!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

      Ronilyn watched Caleb walk into Miss Holt's boardinghouse, the car engine idling.  Lucky kid, she thought, seeing a ghost.  If only she could talk to her father, or Hester Buck, somebody who knew what happened thirty years ago.

      "Hmm."  Or someone who could contact one of them.  "Merlyn?"  Ronilyn said aloud, glancing around.  "Merlyn, are you out there?"  

      She waited.  One minute.  Two minutes.  Nothing.  No cool breeze.  No whispering voice.  No ethereal form.  

      She sighed and shifted gears on the car.  "Figures," Ronilyn muttered, as she pulled away from the curb.  "I probably couldn't even get a visit from Casper, The Friendly Ghost."

      Ronilyn headed over to Lucas's house for dinner.

      "I had to back out on my bowling night for this," Lucas remarked during their meal.  "But I figure for you, what the hell, the team can lose this once."

      "That's mighty big of you," she said. "You can always stop by the bowling alley afterwards.  I'm sure the women will wait for you and your ball."

      Lucas tilted his head and looked at her from across the table.  Ronilyn got a sudden flash of the black crow in her mind.  She shook her head.  "What did you say?"  she asked.

      "I said, you've been kind of mouthy since you came back.  That is, when you're not starin' off into space ignorin' people.  What's goin' on with you?"

      "Got a lot to think about.  So how'd your meeting with the mayor go?"  Ronilyn adjusted the napkin on her lap.

      "Went fine."

      "Everything work out the way you wanted it to?"

      "I said everything went fine.  The mayor knows which side his bread is buttered."  He set down his fork and gave her a long, considering look.  "What's with all the questions?  And it ain't just me.  You've been pesterin' other folks in town.  You were never this nosy as a kid.  What're you up to?"

      Apparently not much that you don't know about, Ronilyn thought, slightly disconcerted by this.  She smiled innocently.  "Me?  I'm just trying to catch up on what's happening in town.  You don't want to talk politics, that's fine.  How about family?  You were going to explain how you happened to acquire a son."

      "The usual way."

      "And what way is that?"

      Lucas chuckled and picked up his glass.  "Come on now, darlin', didn't your mama ever explain to you 'bout the birds and the bees?  Oh, that's right.  She doesn't talk much these days, does she?"  

      Ronilyn's fingers closed around the knife lying next to her plate and she briefly thought about hurling it across the table at him.  "Well, Lucas, sometimes words aren't necessary to communicate things.  Now about Caleb..."

      "Ronilyn, you ain't Oprah and I'm not about to share the intimate details of my life with you."

      "Caleb," she continued, as she gripped the knife tighter, "seems upset about his cousin Gail's accident.  But I guess seeing someone fall down a flight of stairs would be pretty traumatic for a kid."

      "That what he told you?"

      Ronilyn pushed the mashed potatoes around on her plate with the knife and smiled.  "I just told you, Lucas, sometimes words aren't necessary.  Now I'm concerned about Caleb.  Causing Gail's miscarriage has to..."

      "And what makes you think my boy had anything to do with that?"

      "Well, he is *your* boy, like you said," she answered.  "And history does tend to repeat itself."

      Lucas stared at her from across the table with cold eyes.

      "Or are you forgetting your mother's miscarriage a few years before I was born?  Yep."  Ronilyn leaned back.  "Apparently *she* had trouble walking down stairs too.  You were about Caleb's age back then, weren't you?"  She shook her head.  "Like father, like son."


	14. Family Ties

**Reviewers:**

**Kath –** Again, thanks so much!  Lucas and Ronilyn both know how to push each other's buttons as you'll see in this next chapter.  It's that love/hate thing that's all part of being a family.  I think there's a quote from author Erma Bombeck that goes "Family – the ties that bind…and gag".  I always thought that was a clever phrase.  Anyway, this next chapter is titled Family Ties.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

      The glass in Lucas's hand shattered from his grip.  Ronilyn automatically jumped from her chair, napkin in hand, but his voice stopped her.

      "Don't bother," Lucas said harshly.  "It's only a cut."

      "Well.  I guess we're done with dinner then."  Ronilyn flung the napkin on the table and walked out of the dining room.

      Lucas followed her into the den.  "Is that why you came back?"  he demanded.  "You pretendin' this is River Heights and you're some Nancy Drew wanna-be?  Well, snoopin' through private medical records is a crime, and I don't allow that in my town."

      "Yeah, yeah.  Only if you're the one doing the snooping, right?"  Ronilyn brushed his remarks aside with a wave of her hand.  "For your information, I didn't break into any records."

      She wandered over to the window which overlooked part of the front yard.  Dusk had settled over Trinity, but she was sure she could still see some of those gargoyles out there, leering at her.

      "Is that right?"  Lucas crossed his arms against his chest.  "Well, why don't you tell me exactly how you came upon this so-called information?"

      "Maybe my mother told me," she said, squinting at the winged lion gargoyle near the hedges in the yard.  Hmm.  Was that one new?  She didn't remember seeing it on her last visit here.

      "Your mother couldn't tell you what two plus two is," Lucas said as he strode over to Ronilyn.  He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him.  "Now enough of this.  I don't want to hear anymore talk about miscarriages and children pushin' people down stairs, you hear me?"  He gave her a little shake.  "And I don't want you sayin' things like that in town either."

      Ronilyn's eyes flicked down to Lucas's hands gripping her arms.  At the rate this was going, her arms were going to end up bruised by the time she left Trinity.  She'd had fewer physical encounters riding the crowded buses and trains in downtown Chicago during rush hour.  

      "Alright then, let's talk about my mother," she said, meeting Lucas's gaze.

      He frowned.  "What about her?"  he asked, releasing his grip.

      "What happened to her?"

      "Well, darlin', you know what happened to her.  She went crazy from losin' her sister."  He chuckled and twirled his index finger at his head.  "Flaky as pie crust.  Lost her mind."

      "Hey!"  Ronilyn grabbed his hand and jerked it down.  "What the hell is the matter with you?" She glared at him.  "Don't you dare make light of this, Lucas," she said, pointing a finger at him.  "Whatever you did to her, you'd better fix it right now!"

      "What I did to her?"  Lucas tapped his chest with one hand.  "You think I made her crazy?"

      Ronilyn crossed her arms.  "Didn't you?"  

      "No.  Is that why you didn't want me to know you were in town?"  He took a step towards her and she backed up.  "Are you afraid of me, Ronilyn?"

      "You're dangerous," she said flatly, without directly answering his question.

      He considered that statement for a moment. "Well, that goes without sayin'," he said, "but not to you, or to your mother.  Her and my mother were thick as thieves, always visitin' each other.  Why, I remember when you were gonna be born."  Lucas slowly approached her again and Ronilyn continued to scowl at him.  "You caused your mother so much trouble that my mother went and stayed with her in Ascension for most of the pregnancy and even after you were born.  How could you think I would do something to your mother, especially right after my own mother passed on?"

      "I don't know.  Who knows what goes on in that mind of yours?"  Ronilyn shrugged.  "Maybe you were jealous because I still had a mother and you didn't."

      "What I should've been jealous of is all that time my mother spent with you, but the first time I held you..."  Lucas's voice trailed off as he recalled the moment the infant Ronilyn had been placed in his teenaged arms, his mother and Aunt Sarah anxiously hovering nearby.  The baby had stared at him with wide eyes, then clutched his finger with her tiny fist and drifted off to sleep.

      Ronilyn watched him, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth or handing her a shovelful of sentimental garbage.  "Well, somebody did something to her," she said, as Lucas frowned and shook his head as if to clear the images from his mind.  "My mother was completely sane until she went over to *your* house the summer after your mother's funeral."  Ronilyn jabbed Lucas in the chest with her finger.  "She dropped me off at Mrs. Broomley's house and left.  That's the last normal thing she ever did.  A person just doesn't snap like that out of the blue without help."

      "Went over to my house?  For what?  To talk about my mother?"  Lucas's brow furrowed.  "I don't remember..."

      "She never thought Aunt Hester had a heart attack," Ronilyn said, walking past Lucas to stand in front of the fireplace.  "She told Mrs. Broomley right from the start that Hester was too young for that to have happened."  Ronilyn stared at the cold ashes in the fireplace, blinking her eyes against the tears that were forming.

      "Look, Ronilyn, I never did anything to your mother."

      She whirled around.  "My father found her huddled on the floor in the kitchen, crying, screaming, talking crazy.  She'd torn the place apart.  Pots, pans, dishes, chairs, everything was all over the place."  Ronilyn pointed a finger in Lucas's direction.  "You're lucky, Lucas.  At least you remember your mother.  You had real conversations with her.  I've never seen my mother outside of Juniper House.  She's always sitting in that damn room, staring into space, not saying a word.  I don't even know what her voice sounds like."

      Lucas reached out a hand and brushed away the single tear that lay on his cousin's cheek.  "I'm sorry, honey," he whispered, "but it wasn't me."

      Ronilyn slapped his hand away and took a shaky breath as she stalked back over to the window.  Lucas was the only family she had left.  She remembered looking up to him when she was a little girl, everybody in town liked him.  "Whatcha doin', Lucas?"  she'd ask, scampering after him.  "Where you goin'?  Can I come with?"  Most of all, she remembered that terrible day two years ago when she left Chicago and came back to Trinity and her terminally ill father.  Not trusting herself to drive, she'd numbly endured the bus ride from Ascension after the flight.  Lucas had been waiting for her when she arrived at the Trinity bus station, and when she got off the bus, he wrapped his arms around her without a word.

      Ronilyn blinked away her tears.  How could this be the same man who would take another child's father away?  She wanted to believe Lucas, to trust him, but that image of the wife and child at Councilman Stiles's grave was too fresh in her mind.  If Lucas was capable of causing that man's death, then driving someone insane would be easy as pie.  

      Then she frowned, remembering one of the images in her dream.  A man in black holding a bible.  The Reverend Christopher Buck.  Her uncle.  Lucas's father.

      "What about your father?"  she asked.  

      "What about him?"

      Ronilyn turned around.  Lucas had remained near the fireplace.  "Your father.  You still lived with him.  She could've been going to see him that day.  Did he do it?" 

      "I don't know, Ronilyn."  

      "What do you mean, you don't know?  I thought you knew everything that went on in Trinity."

      Lucas sighed.  "Apparently I missed out on a few things back then.  I was a boy, a teenager, you know.  I had other things on my mind."

      "Well, if it wasn't you, then it had to be him," Ronilyn said.  "He's the only other person who could have done it."

      "Why do you say that?"  he asked, watching her closely.

      "That doesn't matter," Ronilyn said, shaking her head.  "I don't care about that right now.  I just want you to fix what was done to her.  Make her better."

      Lucas slowly shook his head.  "Ronilyn, I can't do anything for your mother."  

      She stared at him for a long moment.  "Don't tell me that.  I don't want to hear that."

      "If my father did this, he's long gone.  He's already paid the price."

      "No, Lucas, my mother is paying the price!  Every day for almost thirty years!" Ronilyn shouted. "And so am I!  Don't you care?  I thought that deep down you cared about me."

      He took a step toward her.  "Of course I do."

      "Then why won't you do anything?" Ronilyn hated the desperate tone that had crept into her voice.

      "Ronilyn... I can't."

      "There's that word again.  Can't, can't, can't.  I didn't think that was part of your vocabulary, Lucas,"  she said, desperation slipping into anger. "I thought you were supposed to know everything, could do anything.  It's nice to know that the mighty Lucas Buck isn't so powerful after all, but this is probably the one and only time that I'm not happy to hear that."  She glanced around the room until she spotted her purse on a chair.  "The hell with it.  I'm leaving."

      "What you need to leave is the past," Lucas said, following her down the hall.  "Leave it behind and get on with your life."

      "Get on with my life?"  she repeated, yanking open the front door.  "Well, thanks for the words of wisdom, Lucas," Ronilyn said.  "You've just been so damn helpful tonight. Why don't you write an advice column?  Or better yet, get a talk show."  She stomped onto the porch and down the steps.  

      "Don't live in the past, Ronilyn," he called to her departing figure.

      "I have to," she shouted back, without turning around.  "That's where my mother's living right now."

      Ronilyn drove off, uttering a steady stream of curses until she pulled into her own driveway.  She slammed the car door and leaned against the vehicle, her heart pounding.  Bastard, she thought.  So much for taking care of his own.  Well, she'd just handle things herself, like she always had.  

      A neighborhood cat approached and rubbed its head against Ronilyn's ankles.  She leaned down and, as she stroked the cat's head, her breathing slowed and her heartbeat resumed its normal pace. 

      "Thanks," she whispered.  The animal meowed and scampered back into the darkness.  Ronilyn stood and walked across the street to Mrs. Broomley's house.  The elderly woman answered the door with a broom in her hand.  

      "Yes?  What can I do for you, dear?"

      Ronilyn took a deep breath.  "Mrs. Broomley, I'd like to talk to you about the City Council."

      The woman held the door open.  "Come in, dear, come in.  You'll have to excuse the way the house looks.  I haven't gotten 'round to sweepin' up yet."


	15. Predators

**Reviewers:**

**Kath –** Glad you're still hanging in there.  This next chapter is short, but I think you'll see that Ronilyn has more in common with Lucas then maybe she realizes.   

* * * * * * * * * *****

      The next morning Ronilyn dropped Mrs. Broomley off at City Hall on her way to Ascension and her meeting with her mother's attorney.  She rolled down the car window and dangled her arm out, welcoming the heat of the sun on her skin.  She'd had the usual disturbing dreams last night, with the new addition of leering and lurking gargoyles. It hadn't been a restful slumber, yet somehow she awoke feeling invigorated.

      The attorney who sent her mother's letter knew nothing about its circumstances.  He'd only been employed at the firm a few years and it was merely a task he'd been assigned to perform.  Ronilyn managed to locate the woman who'd been the firm's receptionist thirty years ago.  Now the assistant to the senior partner, the woman could only recall that two women with a baby had brought the letter to the firm one day.  That was the only time she remembered seeing the women.

      Ronilyn thanked the woman for speaking with her and stopped at a restaurant for lunch before returning to Trinity.  She spent the drive back contemplating her next move.  

      Lucas claimed to not have been involved with whatever had happened to her mother Sarah, but there was no way of knowing if that were true. If her Uncle Christopher had done it, he was dead and was of no use whatsoever.  Lucas couldn't or wouldn't help her mother and Ronilyn didn't know which was true.  She sighed, drumming her fingers along the side of the car.  Ben was right.  The truth was damn hard to find in Trinity.

      She crossed over the town boundary line and adjusted her speed to match the speed limit, not wanting to be caught in any speed traps along the tree-lined road.  She slowed down as she passed an empty Cadillac on the side of the road, then suddenly slammed on the brakes.  The car screeched to a halt and Ronilyn leaned out the window, listening intently.

      "Help!  Somebody help me!"

      She parked the car on the side of the road in front of the Cadillac and ran into the woods toward the screaming voice.  Ronilyn slowed as the screams became louder, then stopped as she arrived at a small clearing.  She looked up at the man wrapped around a tree branch, then at the snarling wolf standing below him.  Her gaze was drawn to the shotgun laying several yards from the tree.  Keeping an eye on the wolf, she crouched down and picked up the weapon.  The barrel was warm to the touch.  She inhaled deeply and the smell of gunpowder filled her nostrils.  The shotgun had been fired.

      "Oh, thank God!   Kill it!  Kill it!"

      Frowning, Ronilyn shouldered the shotgun and looked up at the man.  "What happened?"

      "What difference does it make?  Kill that damn thing!"  the man cried.  "It attacked me when I was tryin' to fix my car."

      "In broad daylight on the side of the road?"  Ronilyn narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  "So instead of getting into your car and waiting for him to leave, you grabbed your gun and ran into the woods?  The hood of your car wasn't even up."  She shook her head. "I don't buy it."

      "You don't buy it?"  The man squirmed on the tree branch and nearly slipped.  "What the hell's the matter with you?"

      The wolf turned in Ronilyn's direction, baring teeth dripping with saliva.  No blood though, she noted.  She kept a firm grip on the shotgun and looked back up at the man, studying him closely.  "You don't look like you've been hurt.  Hey!  Aren't you Mayor Quimby?"

      "Yeah.  So what?"  He inched farther up on the branch.

      "You been hunting out of season, Mayor? You ought to know better than that."  An idea sprang into Ronilyn's head.  The wolf snarled, its eyes glowing as it took one, then two steps toward her.  Ronilyn turned her gaze onto the animal.  "Don't do it," she warned in a low voice.

      The wolf's growls lessened until it finally quieted completely.  Ronilyn watched the animal as she said, "Mayor, did you talk to Mrs. Broomley this morning?"

      "That old woman?  Yeah, so what?  Get that thing away from me!"

      "Are you going to go along with her suggestion?"

      "Kill that wolf and I'll let you know."

      "Mr. Mayor, it would be in your best interests to do what she asked," Ronilyn said, alternating glances between the wolf and the treed mayor.

      "Are you crazy?  I can't do that.  Lucas'll... He won't like it."

      "Yeah?"  Ronilyn called up to him.  "Well, I'm the one down here with the wolf and the gun.  If I walk away, Lucas'll be the least of your worries."

      The mayor swore.

      Ronilyn put a hand to her ear.  "What's that, Mayor?  I can't tell if that's a yes or no."

      The man looked down at the wolf, who now sat immediately below the tree.  The wolf opened its jaws and howled.

      "Christ.  Okay, okay, okay.  I'll do it.  I'll have a press conference tonight.  Happy?"

      "Ecstatic."  Ronilyn grinned.  "Okay, wolfie," she addressed the animal, "get on out of here."

      The wolf cocked its head at her.

      "Go on," she said and the animal sprinted off into the woods.

      "Doesn't really matter," Mayor Quimby mumbled as he climbed down from the tree.  "The wolf, Lucas, what's the difference?"

      "There isn't any," Ronilyn said.  "I took care of the wolf and I'll take care of Lucas.  But in order to do that, you need to do me a favor."

      The mayor tumbled onto the ground.  "What, another one?"  He stood and brushed himself off.  "I'm already doin' you a favor by goin' along with what you and that old woman want.  Don't push your luck."

      Ronilyn put two fingers to her mouth and whistled.  "Hey, wolfie!  Come on back!"

      "Christ.  Alright, alright.  Let's just get out of here."

      Ronilyn slapped the man on the shoulders.  "Good idea.  I'll drive you back into town, since you said your car doesn't work," she told him.  "It's not safe around the woods.  All sorts of predators lurking out here."


	16. The Decision

**Reviewers:**

**Kath –** So you like the mayor's name, huh?  I admit it – I'm a big Simpsons fan and I borrowed the name from that show.      

* * * * * * * * * *****

      Ben rushed into the sheriff's station, saying, "Floyd, quick, turn the T.V. on."

      Floyd flipped a switch on the small black-and-white television set near the coffee machine. "Why?  What's goin' on, Ben?"

      "Mayor's callin' a press conference," Ben replied, rotating the knob on the television until he found the correct channel.  "I heard 'em announce it on the radio in the car.  Guess he's finally made up his mind about who's goin' to take over Stiles's place on the City Council."  He squinted at the fuzzy reception on the television screen.  "Probably ought to tell Lucas."

      "Sheriff ain't here," Floyd said, nodding towards the closed office door.  "He's been out a good part of the day."

      Ben swung the T.V. antennas wildly about until Floyd said, "Stop right there, Ben.  That's good."  He peered at the screen.  "Well, I guess we don't need to tell the sheriff.  I see him right there."  Floyd pointed to a corner of the television set.

      Ben leaned over, moving the crossed antennas with him.  He stared at the now blurry picture and sighed.  That damn CBS station was so hard to get sometimes.  "Floyd, get over here and hold this."  He grabbed the other deputy by the shoulder, closed the man's hand around the antennas and positioned him to the left of the television.  The picture cleared and Ben could see Mayor Quimby had chosen to hold the press conference on the steps of City Hall.  Lucas stood almost directly in front of the podium staring up at the mayor.  

      Ben reached for the volume knob and realized it was missing.  "Floyd, what the heck happened to the volume button?"

      "It broke off."

      Ben looked at him.  "Well, where is it?"

      "Uh, I think it's in my desk somewhere."  Floyd frowned.  "Unless I threw it out."

      "How in the hell is anyone supposed to watch anything on here if there's no sound?"  Ben demanded.

      "Want me to see if I can find it in my desk?"  As Floyd started to drop the antennas, the picture on the television screen blurred.  

      "No, no!  Go back!"  Ben waved a hand at him and leaned closer to the television.  

      A few members of the City Council stood on the steps behind the mayor.  The television cameras panned the crowd of people and Ben saw Ronilyn Huntley standing on the second step.  She leaned against the far railing with old Mrs. Broomley at her side.  Selena Coombs stood in the center of the spectators, not doing anything, but Ben's eye was drawn to her nonetheless.  Ben caught a quick glimpse of bank manager Jerry Davis off to one corner, continually glancing at Lucas, before the cameras returned to focus on the mayor.

      Mayor Quimby stared down at his prepared statement as he spoke, but Ben could see his eyes flicker in Lucas's direction every few seconds.  Damn Floyd and his volume knob.  Suddenly, everyone was applauding and the mayor stepped away from the podium and held a hand out toward the two women on the side.  Ronilyn patted Mrs. Broomley on the shoulder and grinned as the older woman walked over to shake the mayor's hand.

      Ben's jaw dropped.  

      "Hey, is that old Mrs. Broomley?"  Floyd asked, trying to hold the antennas and crane his neck to look at the television screen.  "Well, shoot.  I didn't know she was interested in bein' on the City Council.  Wasn't she on there a long time ago?  Ben?"

      Ben squinted but the television cameras weren't panning the crowd anymore.  Even though he couldn't see the sheriff, he just knew that this wasn't the outcome Lucas had planned.  And that Lucas was going to be mighty upset about it.  "Oh, hell," Ben said with feeling.


	17. A Promise Made

**Reviewers:**

**Kath –** Of course I'm holding out on you about the contents of the letter.  g All will be revealed soon – I just hope I can tie everything together so that it makes sense!  I tend to be better with writing characters and dialogue then I am with constructing plots.  Just a few short chapters left.

**J. Travis –** Yay! Another person who remembers American Gothic!  Thanks for the kind words.   Lucas is a fun character to write.     

**Author's Note:**  By the way, I based Mrs. Broomley on the old woman shown sweeping her porch steps in the opening title sequence of every show.

* * * * * * * * * *

      "What the hell is this?"  Lucas muttered, staring in disbelief as Mrs. Broomley, and not Jerry Davis, took over the microphone.  The cowardly mayor double-crossed him?  Him?  Lucas Buck?  He glared at Mayor Quimby, who was taking great pains to avoid looking at Lucas and kept glancing off to the side.  Lucas followed the man's gaze until his eyes came to rest on a beaming Ronilyn.  She leaned against the railing with her arms crossed, then, as if aware of his scrutiny, she turned her head and her eyes met his.

      Ronilyn's smile faltered under the hostility of his stare.  Then she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and turned her attention back toward the podium and Mrs. Broomley.

      Damn her, Lucas thought.  Why was she doing this?  Because he couldn't help her mother?  More importantly, how in the hell did she turn the mayor against him?  

      No one came into his town and interfered in his business, Lucas thought, as he pushed his way through the crowd.  No one.  Family or not, he was not going to let her get away with this.  And then he remembered...

.

.

.

.

.

      "Lucas?"  his uncle's raspy voice whispered.  "Is Ronilyn here?"

      Lucas looked down at the man lying in the hospital bed, the chemotherapy having stripped him of his hair, his appetite, and, slowly, his spirit. "No, Uncle Nathan.  I sent her to get coffee."  And to get her out of the room before she started crying again, Lucas thought, but instead said, "She was lookin' a mite peaked."  

      Nathan Huntley moistened his lips.  "She's been here day and night since she came back to town."

      "Well, she's worried about you."

      "I'm worried about her."  Nathan shuddered as a wave of pain rippled through his cancer-ravaged body.  "I ain't long for this world.  Somebody's got to look out for her."

      "For Ronilyn?"  Lucas said with a slight chuckle.  "Why, she's a grown woman now, Nathan.  Nobody needs to look out for her.  I don't think I've ever known a woman as strong as her."

      Nathan's bony hand reached out and clutched Lucas's vest.  "You watch over her when I'm gone, you hear?  Protect her."

      "Well, that'll be kind of hard to do, her livin' in Chicago.  'Sides, I don't think she'd appreciate it."

      "She doesn't need to know."  Nathan grimaced in pain as he pulled Lucas closer.  "I'm dyin', boy, and I'm askin' you to take care of my daughter, your kin.  You gonna refuse a dyin' man's last request?"  he demanded weakly.

      "No, of course not."  Lucas gently removed the man's fingers from his vest.

      "Good."  Nathan sank back into the pillow with a groan.  "'Cause this is real important to me.  I don't want her to end up like her mother.  I want you to swear - "

      "Swear?"

      " - on your mother's head, God rest her soul, in the name of all that you consider holy - "

      "Uncle Nathan, that ain't necessary."

      " - that you'll take care of Ronilyn and make sure nothin' bad happens to her."

      "Look, I already care for her as if she were my own.  I watched her grow up.  Hell, she's blood," Lucas said.  "You think I'd let anything happen to her?"

      "Swear it, boy!"

      "What's going on?"

      Lucas glanced over his shoulder to see a weary looking Ronilyn slumped against the door frame, her hair pulled back in a short, ragged ponytail.  The fluorescent hospital lights highlighted the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and emphasized the paleness of her makeup-free face.  She stifled a yawn as she looked down in confusion at the coffee cup in her hands.  "Was I suppose to get you some, too?"  she asked Lucas.

      Lucas turned back to Nathan and, looking his uncle straight in the eye, said, "You have my word."

.

.

.

.

.

      ... "You sure were persistent, Nathan," Lucas said aloud, as the crowd thinned enough for him to reach his car.  "Makes me wonder exactly what you knew back then."


	18. The Reckoning is at Hand

**Reviewers:**

**Kath –** Here's a little more for you.  Almost at the end.

**J. –** Thanks, J.  I figured Lucas has to have some redeeming qualities.  He can't be completely evil because then he'd be such a one-dimensional character.  Besides, when Lucas makes deals with people, he expects them to hold up their end of the bargain, so it's only fair that he has to do the same.     

* * * * * * * * * *

      Darkness spread through Trinity as Ronilyn strolled cautiously up the front walk to her house.  Mayor Quimby had insisted she remain with him after the press conference as well as escort him home.  It had been a tiresome, but uneventful evening, with not a single Lucas sighting, something that surprised Ronilyn, considering the look Lucas had given her when the mayor announced Mrs. Broomley as the newest member of the City Council.  She didn't know what Lucas had originally planned for the City Council, but she was certain that he hadn't figured Mrs. Broomley into the equation.

      She entered the house, flipped the light switch on the wall by the door and glanced around.  All was quiet.  No Lucas here either.

      "Hmm," she said aloud, tossing her purse onto a nearby chair.  Perhaps she wouldn't be hearing from Lucas tonight, after all.  "Hah.  Yeah, right."  Ronilyn trudged up the stairs to her room, still haunted by his face.  Lucas had never looked at her that way before.  Never.  It was a look so full of...of...what? Hate?  Anger?  Disappointment?  Nothing good, that was damn sure.

      Ronilyn sat down on the bed, crossed her legs beneath her, and composed a letter of resignation from her job in Chicago.  Protecting Mayor Quimby from Lucas's wrath wasn't something that she could do long-distance.  She wasn't even sure she could do it from a short distance, but she'd agreed to try and in her family a person's word meant something.  

      She chewed on the tip of the pen as she reread what she had written.  Ronilyn crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the air.  "Garbage," she said, watching the paper fall to the floor.  She was clearly not in the right frame of mind for this.  A dog howled nearby.

      Ronilyn looked up.  "That reminds me," she mumbled aloud, unfolding her legs and reaching for the phone.  As the howls grew in volume and urgency, Ronilyn dialed the phone number of the neighbor who was checking on all her pets while she was away.  

      "What the hell is going on out there?"  she muttered and carried the phone over to the window.  She drew aside the shade with one finger and glimpsed the dog sitting beneath her window moments before the bedroom light flickered and went out.

      Ronilyn frowned and glanced back at the open bedroom door.  Blackness stretched beyond the door frame, eliminating the feeble possibility that the light bulb in her room had simply burned out.  She stared down at the dead phone in her hand, then hung up the useless instrument with a sigh.

      "Well, I guess it's show time," she whispered.  She moved warily toward the bedroom door, stubbing her toe on a chair leg.  Ronilyn hesitated at the top of the stairs, suddenly realizing the foolishness of her actions, and fought an urge to flee.  She took a deep breath and exhaled.  She had no choice but to finish what she started.  And unless she leapt out the window like so many other women in Trinity, there was no escape.  

      Ronilyn slowly climbed down the stairs, hugging the side of the wall as she descended, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.  When both of her feet touched the carpeted floor, the house blazed into light.  Hell, the bathroom light upstairs was probably on, Ronilyn thought, as she shaded her eyes with her hand.  After blinking several times, she saw Lucas standing in the center of the room, his eyes boring into her.

      Ronilyn barely stifled a gasp and she swallowed hard, struggling to maintain her composure.  

      Without taking his hands out of his overcoat, Lucas said in a voice barely above a whisper, "You got some explainin' to do, missy."


	19. Unpleasantness

**Reviewers:**

**Kath –** Thanks again...Almost done!     

* * * * * * * * * *****

      "Well?"  Lucas demanded, still in that low, chilling voice.  "I know you're behind what happened at City Hall today."  He approached Ronilyn, who remained standing at the bottom of the stairs, clenching and unclenching her hands.  "You're kin, so I'm givin' you an opportunity to explain yourself.  Don't waste it."

      Lucas stood inches away, seeming to tower over her.  She felt as if his penetrating gaze could touch her very soul.  Ronilyn balled her hands into fists, her fingernails embedding into her palms.  She welcomed the distraction of the pain and crossed her arms over her chest.

      "If I don't get an answer, things are goin' to get mighty unpleasant around here," Lucas warned her.

      "You mean it's not now?"  Ronilyn said with a slight hysterical edge to her voice.  She cleared her throat.  Focus, she thought, digging her fingernails deeper into her flesh.  

      "Well, well, well.  So you can talk.  For a minute I thought maybe you'd been struck mute as well as dumb."

      "You killed that Councilman Stiles," Ronilyn blurted out.  Lucas opened his mouth to speak, but she continued.  "Or else you didn't actually kill him yourself, but you drove him to it."

      "The only thing that drove him to his death was that car he was drivin' at the time.  Now what do these crazy ideas of yours have to do with you meddlin' with things that don't concern you?"

      "You're responsible for his death.  You're responsible for a little girl who's going to have to grow up without one of her parents.  And I know exactly how awful that is, Lucas.  I couldn't stop it from happening to Stiles's daughter, but at least I could keep you from benefiting from it.  Besides, Mrs. Broomley was thrilled with the idea of having a seat on the City Council again."

      Ronilyn nearly flinched as Lucas leaned down.  "You're too soft-hearted for your own good," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "You always were."  He straightened and took a few steps away from her, shaking his head.  "And it's goin' to cost you, darlin'.  Followin' your heart just ain't a smart thing to do, 'specially if it interferes with me."

      "Well, I guess I'd rather be dumb," Ronilyn declared.  "At least I don't have anyone's blood on my hands."  

      "Think again," Lucas said, his eyes flicked down to her arms.

      Ronilyn glanced down and uncrossed her arms as she slowly opened her hands. Blood flowed from deep grooves where her fingernails had pierced the flesh.  The warm liquid slid down her fingers and dripped onto the carpeted floor.  She stared down as blood continued to well up from the cuts.  

      "You'd better be able to make these bloodstains disappear," Ronilyn muttered, watching a dark pattern form on the carpet beneath her feet.

      "Well, you have a mighty high opinion of me," Lucas said with a chuckle.  "I mean, that's real tricky business, gettin' rid of bloodstains.  But you ought to be worryin' about what I _can_ get rid of."

      Ronilyn's head snapped up and she glared at him.  "Don't threaten me, Lucas."

      "I'm not threatenin' you, darlin', I'm tellin' you."   He tapped his wristwatch.  "It's time for you to get on home."

      "I am home."

      "You pack up your stuff and be on your way back to Chicago."  Lucas waved his index finger at her.  "First thing in the mornin', you hear?  We'll just go back to exchangin' cards and letters like it used to be."

      Realizing she was being ordered out of her own house, Ronilyn felt something give way inside of her.  "You want a letter?  I'll give you a letter!"  she yelled.  Wiping her hands against her pants, she stomped over to where her purse lay and yanked out a sheet of paper.  She thrust it at him, saying, "How about this one?"

      "What the hell is this?"  Lucas said, unfolding the paper and scanning the document.

      "Read it and find out.  You wanted to know why I came back."  She gestured at the paper with her hand.  "Well, there you go."


	20. The Letter Revealed

"Bread, cereal, pop," Lucas read aloud. He glanced up from the paper. "You came back to Trinity 'cause you had a hankerin' for our sody pop? Them Rice Krispies just don't snap, crackle and pop like they do in the south, huh?"

Ronilyn swore as she snatched the grocery list from his hand and flung it to the floor. She found her mother's letter in the purse and jammed it into his hand. "Read that," she commanded.

"What's this one?" Lucas asked with a laugh. "Your 'things to do' list? Directions from the airport? Dry cleanin' bill?"

"Just shut up and read," Ronilyn said. "I came back to claim my heritage, whatever the hell that may be. And to find out what happened to my mother - both of them."

Lucas's jaw tightened as he read.

"You must have been a horrible child, making your mother fall down the stairs when she was pregnant." Ronilyn paced the living room, feeling the adrenalin flow through her body. "No wonder the next time she found out she was pregnant, she hid it and went to her sister Sarah for help. Hester was afraid you were going to kill that baby too."

"Shut up!" Lucas said, looking up from the letter with a scowl on his face. "This can't be true. I'd have known. I'd have felt it."

"Maybe you did feel a connection, but you thought it was just because we were cousins," she said. "That's your mother's handwriting, Lucas. _Our_ mother's handwriting. She explains what they did and why."

"Where'd you get this?"

Ronilyn gave a bitter laugh. "Call it a birthday present from Mom," she said. "Sarah was never pregnant with me. Hester stayed in Ascension all those months so no one would find out that _she_ was pregnant. She was probably afraid you'd cause her to miscarry again. Sarah and Nathan raised me as their daughter and even moved to Trinity so Hester would be closer to me. And she was right. You would've killed me if you'd known, wouldn't you, Lucas?"

He looked at her through narrowed eyes as he slowly and deliberately crushed the letter in his fist and dropped it to the floor. Ronilyn involuntarily flinched as Lucas ground his boot into the only thing she had of her mother's.

She glared at him. "Destroying the letter isn't going to make everything go away. It's not going to make me go away."

"That's what you think," he said coldly.

"I'm still your sister. Christopher and Hester Buck's daughter. For better or for worse. And I'm beginning to think it's for the worse," she said, poking her foot at the bloodstain on the carpet. "Blood is blood, Lucas. You can't change that."

"Maybe not, but I can change your address." He strode over to the front door. "You be out of here tomorrow mornin' or I'll come by and see to it myself."

"Morning? What happened to high noon? I thought that was the favorite deadline of sheriffs everywhere."

Lucas jerked the door open and an old woman stumbled into the house.

"Mrs. Broomley? What are you doing here?" Ronilyn asked, snatching up the precious fragments of her mother's letter from the floor and stuffing them into her pants pocket.

Lucas caught the woman's arm and steadied her. "Careful there, ma'am. You alright?"

"Yes, fine, sheriff." Mrs. Broomley clasped his shoulder. "Oh, sheriff, I'm so glad you're here. I was sweepin' off my front stoop when all of a sudden I saw all the lights in Ronilyn's house go out. Then, a couple of minutes later, I swear every single light in the house went on at the exact same time. I came straight over to make sure she was alright."

"Just a little electrical problem," Ronilyn lied.

Lucas patted the woman's shoulder. "Everything's fine now, ma'am.".

"Well, that's good to hear," the elderly woman said. "A woman livin' alone can't be too careful nowadays, even in a little town like Trinity."

"Especially in Trinity," Ronilyn said, looking pointedly at Lucas.

"That's why I was glad to hear you were stayin' on. It'll be good to have you nearby."

"You must be mistaken, ma'am," said Lucas. "Ronilyn was just here visitin'. She's got a life up north, and she's got to be gettin' back to it real soon, don't you, Ronilyn?"

"Why, I thought the mayor offered you a job as his assistant," Mrs. Broomley said.

Lucas arched an eyebrow. "Is that right?" Ronilyn shrugged in response.

Mrs. Broomley frowned. "Well, I hope you change your mind and stay, dear. I really do hate havin' your house sit there empty all the time." She touched Lucas's arm. "Although the sheriff here has taken real good care of it."

"Yeah, he's real good at taking care of things. Although it might be hard to do that if the police budget is cut," Ronilyn said deliberately, knowing what the woman's response would be.

"What? Why that's nonsense, pure and simple." Mrs. Broomley brushed it aside with a wave of her hand. "I already told you, Ronilyn, that I wasn't goin' to let that happen. From where I sit, the sheriff's doin' a fine job. And I sit at the head of the Finance Committee now," she said with a wink.

Mrs. Broomley headed out the front door, then turned back. "You belong in Trinity, Ronilyn. Family needs to stay together. There's not enough of that nowadays."

"She's right," Ronilyn said after the old woman was out of earshot.

"Oh, please. Don't get all sappy on me."

"No, I meant that I belong in Trinity." She jabbed a finger at him. "This is my home too. I have as much a right to be here as you do."

"That's where you're wrong. Dead wrong," Lucas replied. "I'll decide what rights you have and stayin' here ain't one of them. Now pack up your Nancy Drew books and hit the road."

Ronilyn sighed in exasperation. "And how do you expect me to get a flight on such short notice?" she asked. "You got a private jet tucked away in one of those coat pockets or something? Or are you just going to snap your fingers and I'll be back in Chicago?"

Lucas just stood there and looked at her.

"Well," Ronilyn said uncertainly. "It doesn't matter. You'd probably lose my luggage and end up sending it to New York by mistake."

"I'm a reasonable man," Lucas said, stepping onto the front porch. "I'll give you twenty-four hours, a nice round number. That alright with you?" he asked sarcastically.

"And if I don't leave? What are you going to do, kill me?"

Lucas looked at her with an unreadable expression, his gaze traveling down and back up until it rested on her face. "No," he said softly. "No, I'm not goin' to kill you." His features hardened as he silently damned Nathan Huntley for wresting that oath out of him. "But you might wish I had."

"I doubt it," she said. "And you know, you really shouldn't be mad. I took care of your little budget problem, just with a different person _and_ without anybody getting hurt. You heard Mrs. Broomley. She won't mess with your money. So you don't have a puppet on the City Council. Too bad." Ronilyn shrugged. "I guess you'll have to try a little harder to get what you want then." She looked into his eyes. "If you're not up to it, maybe you should step aside."

Lucas was silent for a moment, then a grin slowly spread across his face. "You think you're a match for me?"

"More than anyone else in this town."

Lucas threw back his head and laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"What do you think, that your fine morals, your conscience, are goin' to give you some sort of edge?" He shook his head. "You forget where you are. This is Trinity, darlin'. That kind of stuff doesn't do you a damn bit of good here."

"Then why do you want me out of here? You must think I'm some kind of threat."

"Threat? Yeah, you're a threat alright," Lucas said, still chuckling. "Why, I may just bust a gut laughin' at all your fairy tales and crazy notions. No, what you are is a troublemaker, and there's no room for that sort in my town."

"Sure there is." Ronilyn flung an arm back toward the house. "I got plenty of room here. And if you can't handle a little trouble, Lucas..." She let the unspoken implication hang in the air.

"Careful, Ronilyn," Lucas warned her. "You don't know who you're dealin' with."

"Sure I do. A Buck. Same as me."

"Oh, no. You may be a Buck, but you ain't like me. Not yet anyway," Lucas said with an evil grin.

As he strode down the porch steps, the dog whose earlier howls had announced Lucas's arrival leapt onto the porch from the side of the house and padded over to where Ronilyn stood. Lucas continued down the front walk, his overcoat billowing out with each step. The dog watched, growls rumbling in his throat, as Lucas disappeared into the darkness.

Ronilyn reached down to smooth the dog's risen fur. "Don't worry," she said, more to herself than the dog. "Nobody's pushing me out of my home." Green eyes glittering, she stared out into the night where she last saw Lucas. "So I'm not a threat, huh, Lucas? We'll see about that."

THE END

**Author's Note:**

As Sheriff Lucas Buck once said, "The beauty of a small town like Trinity is that we take care of our own." I hope I took care of my readers and you all enjoyed the stroll through Trinity. A big thanks to my wonderful reviewers Kath, J Travis, and Surfer-Rosa. Those of you who are writers know how encouraging it is to receive feedback – it lets you know at least someone has read your story and been affected enough to comment on it.

While this story has ended, you've probably noticed I've left it open for sequel(s). I have no idea if and when that will happen, but if the Sheriff starts pestering me about it, who am I to deny him?


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